Ter Abnegare
by dnachemlia
Summary: The end of Dean's Deal. Dean said, "I'm the only one who can save me." He was right.
1. Chapter 1

Probably done before, but this is my take on the end of the Deal. It's not as it first appears (and that's all I'm saying right now).

Rated T for unrepentant acts of violence and gore. Mostly Dean centric, but Sam gets his own part later.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yada yada.

There will be three parts to this story.

* * *

**Ter Abnegare**

_Part 1_

This was it.

Dean stood in the center of the crossroads, waiting. He's been thinking of this moment (or trying not to think of it) for a year. The hour his bill would come due, the minute the Deal would end. He was trying to stay calm, be stoic, but his heart was racing in his chest. Everything they had tried, every lead they had followed, had turned out to be for nothing. It was time to pay the Piper.

He had managed to ditch Sam on the way to the crossroads. He wanted to spare his brother the pain, the pain he himself had felt, of seeing a brother die. He knew Sam would be angry, but the anger was nothing compared to the pain. The last thing he could do for Sam was to keep him from knowing that pain.

In the distance, he heard the deep, ominous baying of the Hounds. As the cries grew louder, closer, he braced himself for the onslaught.

_You tried, Sammy…_

He caught the stench of sulfur on the wind. It quickly became suffocating, nauseating. Soon he saw two massive black shapes emerge from the darkness: red-eyed, wolfish, white fangs dripping blood that glowed like fire. They circled him, waiting, hackles raised and ready to fight.

"Dean Winchester. I've been waiting for you for a long time." He turned towards the voice of the demon that held his contract. It appeared as a child, the young, innocent face marred by a complete lack of humanity, her cold white eyes fixed on his.

"Lilith, I presume." She smiled.

"So good to see you here, Dean. I was sure you'd try to weasel your way out. But that would mean giving up dear little Sam. Where is he? Afraid to watch the sacrifice you'll make for him?"

"No. I didn't want him to see it."

"Pity. It would have made such an impression. Now, are you sure you're ready? There is still time to back out, you know." Dean's heart hammered loudly in his chest, but he kept his voice steady.

"No. I'm not going to back out. I'm ready."

"Hmm. Well, maybe this will persuade you."

Dean felt one of the Hounds slam into him, its' claws ripping through the skin on his back as it knocked him to the ground. He rolled over, wincing, to face it as it came back for a second strike, tearing into his chest and flooding his body with agony. Through slitted eyes, he could see the Demon watching, cold amusement on the young face of her host.

"That's just a taste, Dean, of what you're facing."

The second Hound joined the attack, lashing its' razor claws across his arms as he raised them in defense. Dean let out a strangled scream and fell back to the ground as the Hounds circled him once again.

Through his haze of pain, he heard the faint rumble approaching. It was a sound he knew all too well.

_No, Sam, don't…_

Lilith turned toward the sound of the Impala's engine. She smiled, her eyes glowing briefly with malice before she squatted down in front of Dean.

"One last chance, Dean. Send Sam back and this will all be over." Dean glared up at her, hatred burning is his eyes.

"No."

She sighed, sounding like a child who has been denied an extra treat after attempting to cajole to a strict parent.

"Fine. I guess you'll have to go all the way. See you in Hell."

Dean tensed, awaiting the final rush of the Hounds. Suddenly, over their vicious growls, he heard the thing he least and most wanted to hear: his brother's voice, for the last time.

"DEAN!"

He wasn't sure what hurt worse, the pain in Sam's desperate cry, or the agony of his soul being ripped from his body as the Hounds closed in.

The bitch was right. The attack at the crossroads was only a taste.

He was falling, unable to stop his descent. As he fell, _things_ clawed at him, screaming curses and laughing at his agonized cries. The assault on his body was constant, torturous, worse than anything he could have possibly imagined. His body begged for it to end, for the torment to stop. In his mind, he kept a hold of himself through a repeating stream of thought.

_Sam is safe. He's not here, not feeling this. That's all that matters._

Suddenly, he hit solid ground with a jarring crash. It felt as if every bone in his body had shattered. He writhed in agony on the burning rock, feeling as though the flesh was being burned from his body. He screamed, the sounds tearing through his throat as tears streamed from his eyes, the salt burning the shredded flesh of his face.

"Ready to give up, yet?" a cold, childish voice crooned. "We're just getting started here, really. There's so much _more_ we can do to you."

_Nononononono._

"Oh, come now Dean. It's such an easy way out. I'll return your soul to your body, the wounds will heal. You'll be back on Earth, alive, safe, and ready to return to your life. All you have to do is give up, let Sam return to where he should have stayed a year ago. You'd be doing him a favor. He's experiencing his own Hell on Earth now, without you."

_Demons lie…demons lie…he'll survive…he'll make it…_

"You probably think he'll find a way to get you out. He won't. He doesn't care. He hates you for leaving him, for abandoning him to fight on his own. Let him go. Set things back they way they should have been before you made the deal. What's dead should stay dead, isn't that what you said yourself? You can survive without him. No freak psychic episodes, no whining to cramp your style. You'll be free. And the pain will stop."

_No, no it won't. It was worse…it would be worse…_

"Last chance, Dean!" Her voice had risen to a near shriek. "Save yourself from torment. You can do it!" Dean gathered all of his strength to roar one single word:

"_NO!!_"

Suddenly, a new voice broke through the cacophony surrounding him, through the shrieking of demons and the cries of the damned.

"_Ter_."

And the pain stopped.

* * *

A/N: Please forgive the (probably) incorrect grammar in the title. It's been a really, _really_ long time since I had Latin.

Reviews are always appreciated.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yada yada

Language warning: Someone has a bit of a potty mouth in this segment. Also: Beware of Angst, and it gets a little weird from here on out.

Part 2 of 3

* * *

**Ter Abnegare**

_Part 2_

_The pain stopped._

Dean opened his eyes, not sure what he expected to see, but it sure as Hell (pun intended) wasn't this. He was staring up at the night sky, dotted with stars, the full moon casting a pale glow over the landscape. He sat up and looked around, eyes widening to adjust to the darkness, and took in the scene around him. He was sitting in the middle of a field, whole and unmarked, dressed in only his jeans and t-shirt, his bare feet growing cold in the damp grass. The field was completely silent.

_Middle of nowhere, half dressed, alone…_

He heard a low growl of anger and turned to see Lilith standing a few yards away, her face contorted in fury.

_Scratch that. Middle of nowhere, half dressed, and alone except for one seriously pissed off demon_.

He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't support him and he fell back to the ground with a thump.

"Dean Winchester, you _stubborn fucking bastard!_" Startled by her outburst, Dean tried to move away from her, but his body wouldn't cooperate. He stared at her in silence, waiting with apprehension for the next tirade into which she appeared to be ready to launch.

"_Stupid, good for nothing, self-sacrificing, blindly loyal, mule-headed, thick-witted--"_

_I think I've heard all this before--_

"—_incorrigible, pusillanimous—"_

_Well, not those—_

"—_ignorant fucking IDIOT!_" Lilith paced back and forth as she ranted, her small host body visibly shaking in fury. Dean eyed her nervously while awaiting her next assault.

"No. I won't accept it. You should have broken! You _will_ break!" Suddenly, Dean heard the pounding of running feet. He saw one of the Hounds emerge of the darkness, rushing toward him at a terrifying speed.

_Not again._

As he threw up his arms to defend himself against the vicious attack, he caught sight of a grey blur as it rushed toward the Hound from behind. The interloper overtook the Hound, latched onto it, and slammed to a halt, using its' momentum to snap the Hound's neck with a sickening crack. Dean stared at the creature and realized it was a large, greyhound-type dog. It dropped the Hound and walked over to sit next to Dean, facing Lilith and growling softly. Stunned, Dean looked back up at Lilith and flinched when he saw the depth of her rage.

"NO!" She screamed, and the other Hound appeared, launching itself at Dean. Before he could react he heard a _twang_ and something thin and silver embedded itself in the Hound, dropping it at Dean's feet.

"I never though you'd be such a poor loser, Lilith."

Dean's attention snapped to the source of the voice, the voice he had heard only moments before when it had spoken a single word. He saw a tall, dark-haired woman, dressed in similar fashion to himself, sitting astride a pale grey horse. She was holding a longbow in one outstretched hand, and her eyes glowed with a silvery-blue light as she stared at Lilith with an unreadable expression on her face. Lilith turned to the woman and sputtered in fury.

"You! You must have told him what to do! There's no other way. This is impossible. I never lose!"

"No one likes a braggart, Lilith, especially me. And _no one_ accuses me of cheating." In a flash, the woman had a strange, silvery colored arrow knocked on her bow, drawn and aimed at the demon. "Do you really want to risk not following the rules?"

"It doesn't matter. I can still get what I want. I can take the _other_ with ease!"

"Have you forgotten the _other_ rule?" the woman asked, her voiced dripping with menace. "He's protected, as he was before, even though you _tried_ to wriggle your way around that one. It's over, Lilith."

Dean watched the exchange in a daze. He was still tense, waiting for someone to declare this all a joke and send him back to the Pit. Lilith turned and glowered at him as she directed her response to the woman.

"There's still a choice to be made. This isn't over." She gave Dean one more venomous glare before turning and stalking away, quickly vanishing into the darkness.

Dean slowly turned to the woman to see her remove the arrow from her bow and place it in one of the quivers which hung from a strap over the horse's withers. She then turned her attention to Dean, gazing at him for a moment before tossing back her head and laughing with pure delight.

"The Mother of all demons, having the mother of all tantrums: That was…priceless. Well done, Dean. Well done."

Dean struggled to form a coherent sentence as his mind raced through the possibilities of what that scene with Lilith had meant. Finally he spoke.

"What…what happened?" The woman chuckled.

"You found a loophole. _The_ loophole, to be precise." She swung her right leg over and hopped down from her horse before walking over to where he was sitting, stunned, in the middle of the field. She sat down in front of him, tucking her bare feet under her jean-clad legs.

"But…how?"

"For souls bargained into Hell, there is a chance to get out of the deal. In order to be where you are now, the person first has to have a sponsor, someone willing to take their soul out of Hell. Second, the person has to pass the test. _Ter Abnegare_."

Dean struggled to clear his head so he could translate. "Thrice…to deny?"

"Yes. You were offered a chance to trade someone else's life for your own, the opposite of what brought you to Hell in the first place. They asked three times. You refused every time," she said with what sounded suspiciously (to Dean) like pride in her voice.

"What…why would they allow that?"

"Because it is extremely rare for both conditions to be met, that's why. That, and the results when someone fails to pass the test."

"What happens if they fail," he asked as he felt a chill, thinking how close he could have come to failure. "And why would they choose Sam for the trade?"

"There are different levels of Hell, some far worse than others. I'll leave it at that. As for the choice of someone to trade, well, the only thing greater than a demon's stupidity is its' ego. The taunts that Azazel made to you about Sam were meant to strengthen the chances, of course, but they never really though you'd be able to resist. They thought you were weak."

"But I was. Weak enough to make the damn deal in the first place, right?"

"You've never been weak, Dean. Maybe you've done things for not the best of reasons, but that doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."

They sat in silence as Dean thought though everything she had said. Suddenly, a question arose in his mind, one he was almost afraid to ask.

"What about my Dad? Did he…was he given a choice? Did he have a…sponsor?" The woman sighed.

"Yes, and no." Dean's heart sank.

"But he was still…?"

"He stood mute."

"Come again?"

"He refused to answer. The rule is that the person must either refuse or accept. He did neither. A rare occurrence as well. Those who stand mute cannot be sent to the worst sections of Hell, but neither can they leave, unless, of course, a door is opened. Maybe that was his plan all along." She gave Dean a rueful smile. "And to answer your next question, those without a sponsor who do pass are sent back to where they would have gone had they died but not made the deal. You, on the other hand, have options."

"What about those who have a sponsor and fail?"

"They would never be sponsored in the first place. Really, Dean, do you think I would have chosen you if I thought you would fail me? You've never failed me." He stared at her in shock.

"Wait…what?"

"You are a Hunter. A true Hunter, because you save others as well. You've never abandoned your job, and you've always done the best you could to take down what needed to be destroyed. You are one of my own."

"Who…what…are you?" he asked, terrified of what the answer might mean.

"You may call me Diana." In a daze, he looked around, at the horse, at the dog next to him, and finally at the woman seat across from him.

"Wait…_the_ Diana? The Roman Goddess?"

"I've been around for quite a bit longer, but essentially, yes."

"But…oh, no way…"

"Come on now, Dean, did you really think hunting monsters was a recent development? Hunters like you have been around for a long time. Back when they felt it was necessary to have guidance"--she gave him a pointed look—"they called on another hunter. Me. I accepted it. Every just kill they made was a sacrifice in my honor. Everyone person saved was homage. In return, I offered my guidance to those who asked, and those traditions and knowledge have been passed down through the generations." She stood up, brushing the dead grass from the seat of her jeans. "I can't rush in and save the day, though. There's too many of Them, and just one of me. I'm not a guardian, but I can help when the opportunity presents itself." She offered him her hand. "And you gave me that opportunity." Dean cautiously reached for her offered hand, and she grabbed him and hauled him to his feet with startling ease. He continued to gaze at her in astonishment and she chuckled.

"I guess that just rocked your world a little bit, didn't it?" He blinked several times and gave her a weak grin.

"It's been that kind of day," he managed to say. "But…before, Lilith said there was a choice to be made. What did she mean?"

"Ah, yes, that. We'd better get moving." She jogged over to her horse, swung herself up onto its' back and whistled for the dog before motioning for Dean to follow suit. "Hop on," she said, reaching behind and patting the horse's back.

Dean stared at the horse with unease.

"Uh…"

"What's the matter, uncomfortable with riding bitch?" She winked and grabbed his arm again, helping him pull himself up onto the horse's back and swing on leg over to the other side until he was sitting behind her. He looked around apprehensively.

"Where do I, uh, hold on?" She reached behind with both arms and brought his hands around to the front so he was gripping her waist.

"Hang on."

She grabbed the horse's mane and dug in her heels.

* * *

Dean was sure of one choice he would make: he would never ride a horse again, or at least not this one. It was like being caught in a whirlwind. The wind whipped his face, stinging it, until he gave up and buried his face in Diana's shoulder. He turned his head and glanced down, only to see the ground below rushing by. He looked back up and saw the dog, loping along side, keeping pace without any apparent effort. The speed at which they were traveling made him dizzy and he resigned himself to closing his eyes, burying his face into the goddess' shoulder again and waiting for it to be over.

Finally the horse slowed to a walk, and Dean raised his head to look around. They were back at the crossroads and the sight that met his eyes brought a lump to his throat. He could see the Impala with its' headlights still on, illuminating a group of figures in the center of the crossroads. As the horse came to a halt, he slid off and dashed over to the group, his frantic eyes sweeping the scene.

_Sammy…I'm so sorry…_

Sam was on his knees in the dirt with his head down, cradling Dean's body in his arms, harsh sobs shaking his entire frame. Bobby was kneeling next to Sam with one trembling hand on his shoulder. The older man's face was wet with tears, his expression showing utter devastation. Sam's sobs soon took on the cadence of speech.

"_No, no, no, no, no, Dean, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me. I couldn't save you. I tried. I tried. Please…_"

Dean felt the tears slide down his cheeks. _How could I have done this to Sam. How?_ Suddenly he sensed a presence and spun around to see Diana and another woman standing at the edge of the crossroads. The other woman was short, pretty, with shoulder length straight black hair and dark grey eyes.

"Why did you bring me here? _Why?_" he shouted at the goddess, ignoring the other woman who continued to gaze at him with an impassive expression. "I thought…" _I thought you cared…_

"I needed to bring you here, because this is where you made a choice. Now it is time to make another." She looked down at the sobbing form of his brother. "And you needed to see the consequences of the first in order to make the best choice for you this time. It's part of the rules. You needed to see for yourself how much you mean to those who are important to you, how important _you_ are, and how much it hurts them to think of you in Hell. All of this will help you to choose." Dean glanced back at Sam and Bobby, and their anguish, and for the first time he truly understood what he had done. Furious with fate and himself, he raised his voice in anger.

"So what are the options? I'm dead, obviously, so I guess I either get to choose to stick around as a spirit, or 'move on'. Well, you know what? They both _suck!_"

"No, that was your choice at another time. This one is different," said the other woman. Dean froze, his eyes taking in the other woman's features while searching his mind for a memory.

"Who are you?"

"Tessa." Diana noted Dean's puzzled look and stepped in.

"She's a reaper. You've met before."

"Before?" _Oh god, the hospital, after the accident…_

"Nice to see you again, Dean_."_

_Wish I could say the same_

"Yeah, OK, so why didn't you do your job the last time? You could have saved us from this whole mess in the first place!"

"You know why," said Diana with an edge to her voice.

"Has a bit of an anger issue, doesn't he?" muttered Tessa. "I'll wait over here until you're ready." She walked over and leaned against the Impala, her back to Dean. Diana put a hand on Dean's shoulder and turned him to face her.

"Dean…you need to listen to me. I'm going to tell you your choices, and the good and bad that come with each. Your first option is that you can move on. You will get a chance to let Sam know that you are no longer in Hell. You can put his mind at rest, say your final goodbyes, reassure him as best you can. The guilt that would have driven him over the edge can be taken away. You have _earned_ your peace, and you are worthy of it. You proved that over and over, whether you see it or not. You will never have to worry about being taken by demons, about being tempted to leave your true purpose and turn into something you hate. You will be with your family again." Startled at her final words, Dean looked up and met her eyes. He thought for a moment, and cleared his throat.

"What's my other option?"

"I can send your soul back into your body." His eyes widened.

"That's the other choice? Seriously? Do you--?"

"But you need to hear the whole thing. First, I cannot guarantee that you will be safe. The demons may come for you again, and although Sam is protected from a direct assault because he was used in the _Ter_, but there are other ways he, and you, can become a guest of Hell, and there will be no way out. Second, because your soul was forcibly removed, it cannot be returned without consequence. Your body will not immediately be healed, as it was after the accident. Your wounds, while not fatal, are grievous and will require a lot of time to mend. There will be a lot of pain. You will still have all of the other problems you had to deal with when you go back to hunting: the isolation, the fear, the persecution. One last thing: if you go back, you cannot re-assume the role of protector. It will not be your job to look after Sam. You will have to be equal partners. You'll have his back, and he'll have yours, but no more of this trading your life for each other. Got it?"

Dean considered everything she had said.

"Can I ask something?" She nodded. "If I…move on, will I see Sam again? I mean, someday?"

"I can't guarantee it, just as I cannot guarantee you will be together at the end if you go back. Sam does have darkness to him, a potential to move down the slippery slope to damnation."

"He would never--."

"But it is true that having you with him will help keep him back from the edge. Help, not ensure, that he won't go over. You have been his anchor, but he has the ability to find his own as well."

"One more question: will I remember this? What happened after I died? What it was like in Hell?"

"Other than the secret of the loophole, which no one is supposed to know, you will remember what you need to remember. That's all."

Dean was silent for several moments, processing everything she had said. Finally he met her eyes again.

"You knew that I would make the choice I needed to save myself from Hell. You know me well enough for that. You should know me well enough to figure out which choice I'll make." She smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him once on each cheek.

"I do. Have a safe journey, Dean." She walked back over to her horse, called her dog, and swung herself up onto her mount's back. With one last wave, she turned her horse around and took off, disappearing into the darkness. Dean watched her leave and turned back to the center of the crossroads. Tessa stood before him, looking up at him with her dark eyes.

"You've made your decision, then."

"Yeah. I guess you're supposed to be my, what? Guide? Conduit?"

"Something like that. Just think of your choice, and I will honor it."

"You sure? No last minute changes?"

"Of course not. She gave your soul back to you when she asked you to make the choice. You alone determine where you're going. You are very fortunate to have that chance."

"Yeah," he said as she raised her hand to his face and he closed his eyes. "It's my lucky day."

* * *

A/N: We get Sam (and Bobby I guess) POV in the next section.

So...at what point in the story did you figure out the identity of Dean's "sponsor"? Reviews are appreciated.

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	3. Chapter 3

So, here's the last part (and an epilogue, because the thought of the scene amused me). Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, and/or added this to their alerts or favorites.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yada yada

It gets a bit sappy. Sorry about that...

* * *

**Ter Abnegare**

_Part 3_

"_DEAN!"_

All of Sam's anger at being ditched vanished at the sight of Dean, torn and bleeding, kneeling in the middle of the crossroads. Sam lunged out of the car and ran pell-mell towards his brother as he tried desperately to reach him before the Hellhounds made their final claim, but he was too late. As he watched in horror, Dean's body lurched as if it had been hit by a terrible force and a short, blood-curdling scream tore through his throat before he collapsed completely.

The strength went out of Sam's legs as his knees buckled and he slid the last couple of feet to reach his brother. He rolled Dean over onto his back and when he saw his brother's eyes – open, glazed, and empty -- he knew his worst nightmare had come true. Sobs shook his body as he gathered Dean in his arms and held him, blocking out everything else. He didn't hear Bobby crouch down next to him, didn't feel the older man lay a hand on his shoulder, didn't see the tears his friend shed for his brother. His voice cracked as he made his plea.

"No, no, no, no, no, Dean, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me. I couldn't save you. I tried. I tried. Please…"

He repeated the litany over and over. This was worse than that Wednesday after confronting the Trickster, worse than those months hunting it down, worse than the hundred-plus Tuesdays he had survived while Dean had not. It was really over: he had failed, and he was alone.

Eventually, Bobby's voice broke through his haze of misery.

"Sam, we need to get out of here. We need to do what needs to be done. For Dean."

"NO!" Sam pulled his brother's body tighter to his chest. "No, we can't, we just--."

He felt a puff of breath against his neck, and froze, his eyes widening in surprise. And fear.

"Sam? What…?" Slowly, Sam lowered Dean to the ground, almost afraid to look, wondering if Dean's protection tattoo could really keep _everything_ out.

"Bobby, give me the holy water. Now!" He cautiously leaned over and peered at Dean's eyes. They were now closed and the rest of his features were twisted in obvious pain. Bobby slapped a plastic bottle into Sam's hand and he unscrewed the lid and dribbled a bit of the water on Dean's forehead. At first, nothing happened, but then Dean's green eyes fluttered open, his gaze wandering before fixing on Sam's face.

"S-sammy?" Sam tried to respond, but he couldn't. Dean's eyes tracked away from Sam and up towards his forehead.

"'s it raining?"

Sam let out a burst of pent-up breath and half laughed, half sobbed. "Dean…?"

Dean's face twisted with pain again and his eyes squeezed shut.

"Dean! No, man, come on!" Sam put two finger's to his brother's neck and felt for a pulse. It was there; fast and erratic, but there. In one swift motion he scooped Dean into his arms and stood, almost knocking Bobby on his butt in the process.

"Sam? What the--?"

"We have to go, Bobby, NOW! We have to get him to a hospital." Bobby wiped his face and watched Sam march to the Impala with Dean's limp form in his arms. With a sigh, he followed. By the time he reached the car Sam already had Dean in the backseat.

"You stay back there with him," Bobby directed. "I'll drive." Sam didn't bother to respond as him climbed into the back seat with Dean.

* * *

_Damn Winchesters…_

Bobby drove like a bat out of Hell, the irony of that description not lost on him. He checked the rear view mirror often, not for cops, but to keep an eye on his passengers.

Bobby remembered, even if Sam, in his panic, didn't, that sometimes holy water doesn't work, and you can never be sure of the normal test results when dealing with a higher demon, but he had been unable to dissuade Sam that his brother was really back. So he drove, mindful of the traps he had surreptitiously placed in the Impala, and hoped that if his fears were justified, they would be able to vanquish whatever evil had decided to make Dean's corpse its' puppet. As he listened to Sam's quiet and repeated reassurances to his brother, that everything would be _all right_, he dearly wished his suspicions were wrong.

He reached the hospital parking lot and before he could warn Sam to wait, the back door flew open and Sam jumped out, turned around, and reached back into the car to pull Dean into his arms. To Bobby's surprise, Sam brought Dean out of the Impala, _through_ the traps, with ease. Bobby sighed with relief, locked the doors, and rushed to catch up with Sam as he strode across the parking lot to the emergency entrance. One of the staff standing by the entrance saw Sam and ran inside, returning with a gurney and several other medical personnel. In the confusion that followed, Bobby was barely able to keep control over Sam as he fought to stay with his brother, tried to answer the rush of barked questions, and managed to remember to register Dean as his nephew. After Dean had been rushed off to surgery, and he had managed to deposit Sam onto one of the hard plastic waiting room chairs, he stepped outside into the cool night air and breathed a sigh of relief as he offered a prayer to whatever might be out there listening. Eventually he leaned back against the building, slid down the wall until he was sitting on the concrete sidewalk, and closed his eyes.

_I'm getting too old for this shit_.

* * *

The gentle hand on Sam's shoulder almost drove him out of his seat in surprise. His mind had been completely focused on Dean, blocking everything else out. He looked up to find the owner of the hand and saw a woman in nurses' scrubs gazing down at him with a sympathetic expression in her grayish-blue eyes. She held out a set of folded scrubs, a towel and a small bag filled with a plastic garbage bag, a wash cloth, and sample-size bottles of soap and shampoo.

"Sorry to startle you, but you look like you could use these. There's a shower room down the hall and to the right."

"Thanks, but I'm waiting for news on my brother."

"Dr. Paolo said it will be a while longer. You have plenty of time to go get cleaned up. Now go on, shoo." She gave him a stern look.

"But--."

"Go!" She said, and smiled. "Everything will be fine. Besides, you're starting to stink up the place, you know."

Sam let out a shaky laugh, rose from his chair and groaned. He was stiff from sitting in the chair, his knees ached, and a shower sounded wonderful, but still he hesitated. He couldn't leave until he was sure--.

"It will be OK, Sam. Go." He sighed and reluctantly turned towards the end of the hall.

Sam showered and changed as quickly as he could, terrified that he would miss the doctor's return. He stuffed his blood-stiffened clothes into the garbage bag and rushed back to the waiting area, which was mostly deserted. He sat back down in the same hard chair to wait.

"See? You didn't miss anything." The nurse handed him a cup of coffee, which he accepted with a stiff smile. She sat down in the chair next to him.

"You looked like you needed that. The cafeteria isn't open right now, but I might be able to scare up something from the vending machines."

"No thanks." She smiled sympathetically and patted his knee.

"You really care about your brother, don't you? What happened to him out there?"

"I…don't really know. I didn't see what did it," he added, truthfully. "But it was…scary to find him like that. I was afraid…that I'd lost him for good." He drew in a shuddering breath. "I really don't know what I'd do if…" He bowed his head, not wanting to see this woman's pity. Thankfully, she did not offer any empty platitudes, but simply sat next to him, her knee touching his, offering comfort in her presence. Finally, she patted his shoulder and rose from her chair.

"I've got to go, Sam. The doctor should be here pretty soon. Go find your uncle."

_Uncle? Oh, right…_ He raised his head and gave her a weak smile. She squeezed his shoulder and walked off, disappearing around a corner before he realized he had never even bothered to ask her name.

As he rose from his chair, he saw Bobby walking down the hall towards him, looking as worn and weary as Sam felt. The hunter reached him and gave him a once over before speaking.

"Any news?" Sam was about to respond in the negative when he saw a doctor dressed in surgical scrubs approach. His heart started to race as he braced himself for the news.

"Bobby and Sam Singer?" the doctor asked as he reached the two men. They nodded, and Sam responded almost immediately.

"How is Dean? Is he…?" Sam was almost afraid to hear the answer. How cruel would it be to get his brother back only to lose him now?

"He is resting comfortably in Recovery." Bobby grabbed Sam's elbow to keep him from collapsing in relief. "His injuries were extensive, but we were able to repair the damage. We're keeping him sedated for the next 24-48 hours in order to assist in his recovery." The doctor gazed intently at Sam. "Are you sure you don't know what attacked him?"

"I didn't see it, sorry. How bad…?"

"It took over 1,000 sutures to close the wounds, which is incredible. More than most shark attacks, even. My concern is that whatever this was is still loose and could attack someone else, someone who won't be so lucky."

"Sorry…when can I see my brother?" Sam asked, knowing full well he would have to deal with this later, but right now all he wanted was to see Dean, alive and recovering.

"In order to keep the risk of infection down, I would prefer--." The doctor caught Sam's expression and sighed. "After we move him out of recovery, you can see him. Just for a minute, and no contact." He raised his hand to stave off Sam's protests. "That's the best I can do, for both of you. Just trust me, and he'll be fine. OK?" Sam opened his mouth to protest, but after seeing the look in the doctor's eyes, he relaxed a bit and nodded.

"OK."

* * *

_2 days later…_

Sam sat next to Dean's bed, his right hand resting lightly on Dean's left, waiting for his brother to awaken. The doctor had been pleased with how well Dean's wounds were healing, and infection had not set in, so Dean was no longer being kept under. It was now up to Dean to wake up, open his eyes, and let Sam know (he hoped) that everything was OK, that he was really in there.

Sam shifted in his chair. He had so many questions, a need for the answers, but most off all he just wanted to talk to his brother again, to listen to his teasing, his complaints, his commentary on the things they had seen and done.

"C'mon, man," Sam whispered. "Just let me know you're there. Let me know all this waiting hasn't been for nothing. Please. Just…just wake up." After waiting several minutes for a response, Sam sighed and rested his head on Dean's bed, closing his eyes as he let his exhaustion take over.

Dean opened his eyes and blinked, trying to focus on the room around him. He raised his head and looked around, noticing a shaggy brown lump on the bed just below his hand. His eyes traveled further down and he saw the rest of his brother's lanky form folded into a chair next to his bed. He sighed with relief. _I made it_ _back to Sam._ He reached out to brush Sam's hair with his fingertips, and his touch caused Sam to sit up so fast he practically fell out of the chair. Dean bit his lip to keep from laughing, partly because it was at his brother's expense, but mostly because he was sure it would hurt really, _really_ bad.

Sam recovered quickly and stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Sammy," he whispered, wincing at the weakness of his own voice and the roughness he felt in his throat. He caught his brother's expression and groaned. Tears were flowing, unchecked, down his brother's face. "Hey, hey, Sammy, it's OK."

"Is that really you?" In any other case, it would have seemed to be a stupid question, but Dean understood his brother's concern.

"In the flesh…in the very _battered_ flesh, but yeah, it's me."

"But…how? How did you--?"

They were interrupted by one of the nurses.

"Oh, good, you're awake. I bet you're thirsty. How about some ice chips?" Dean nodded, just wishing she would leave. "And the pain? Is it--?"

"Fine." The brother's said in unison. The nurse stared at them for a moment before shrugging and walking back out of the room to retrieve the ice chips and Dr. Paolo.

"Later, Sam. I'll tell you later, just…"

"Right. How do you feel?"

Dean chuckled and winced. She was right about the pain part.

"Like I've been to Hell and back." Sam's face crumpled.

"Dude, that's not…that's not funny."

"Aw c'mon, it's a little funny? No, I guess you're right. Sammy, I'm sorry."

"Dean--."

"No, I mean it. I never said it before. But I am, for what I put you through. You didn't deserve it." He heard the nurse returning, followed by the doctor. He gave Sam a look that said "_later_".

"So, Dean, glad to see you awake." The doctor checked him over while the nurse started to give him the ice chips. When the exam was finished, and Dean's parched throat was tended, he turned to the doctor.

"So, when can I get out of here?"

Dean looked at his brother and grinned. After a moment, Sam gave him a small grin in return.

_Good to have you back, bro'._

* * *

Three days later, Dean was ready to leave the hospital, under strict orders from Dr. Paolo to rest and take it easy. For once, Dean was willing to comply. Because of the chance of one of the nurses popping into his room unexpectedly, he had kept the conversation to safe topics, with the unspoken promise that he would explain everything to Sam in due time. He could see how badly Sam wanted to discuss it, either to assuage his fears or confirm his guilt, but Dean knew it had to wait, and Sam, so far, was respecting his decision.

After arriving at Bobby's, and getting settled onto the battered sofa, Sam and Bobby both pulled up chairs and sat down to face him.

"OK, Dean, spill," growled Bobby. "What happened? Did you--?"

"No more deals, Bobby. I think, no, I _know_ I'm free and clear this time."

Bobby turned to Sam. "And you?"

"No deals for me, either. I have no idea what happened." They both turned back to Dean.

"Well?"

"I don't know. All I do know is I did it myself, somehow. Something I did, but I guess I'm not supposed to remember."

"So what else do you remember?" Sam asked, hesitantly. "Do you…?"

"Do I remember Hell? Just enough to know I never want to go back." He saw Sam's expression and felt a twist in his stomach. "Sammy, listen to me. I don't want you to feel bad about this. It's my fault, not yours, OK? I got myself there, but I also got back out."

"You went there because of me…"

"No. And you know what? Even if I did, I don't care, because for some strange reason I think I got out because of you, too. I can't explain it, but there it is. You _did_ save me, just like you promised. But that's it, OK? End of story. I never want to hear about any deals, ever again."

"I'll drink to that," muttered Bobby. "Dean, you need to rest. Sam, you need to stop worrying your brother over this. As for me, I have stuff to do." Bobby got up and dragged his chair across the room to its' usual place, before stomping out the front door.

Sam turned to his brother, who was already leaning back on the sofa with his eyes closed.

"Dean…"

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean muttered. "Hurry up, I need to get my beauty sleep." Sam stared at his brother before it hit him. This was really over. There was still danger, still problems to work through, but the cloud that had hung over their lives for the past year had finally vanished. He saw the slightly smug look on his brother's face, and gave him a genuine smile.

"Jerk," he muttered, his grin stretching across his face.

Dean smirked and replied, not even opening his eyes.

"Bitch."

* * *

Several weeks had passed since Dean had stood at the crossroads, and during that time, he and Sam both had started to heal in their own way. Dean worked to gain his strength and mobility back, and Sam did research, trying to gather as much information as he could from Bobby's extensive library. The boys worked together as well, training, cleaning weapons, replenishing and organizing the supplies to be tucked away in the Impala's trunk. Finally, after Dean had almost driven Bobby to distraction with his restless antics, Sam had found a hunt, and they were ready to get back on the road.

Bobby, for his part, had helped them to renew the wards he had placed on the Impala, much to Dean's chagrin, and then added new ones. The car was their home, really, and Bobby knew the importance of making a home safe. And as he watched the boys together, he saw the differences. They still had the bond that amazed him, but now they seemed even closer, treating each other more as equals than he had ever seen before, and for the first time he had real hope for these brothers. He believed they would survive whatever lay ahead.

On the morning they left for the hunt, Sam and Dean checked everything twice, wanting to make sure they were never caught unaware again. When they finished packing the car, and had said their goodbyes to Bobby, Sam turned to Dean.

"Are you sure you're ready for this? To go back to hunting?"

"Yep. Apparently it's what I'm meant to be doing." Sam gave him a questioning look. "I'll tell you on the way. It's quite a story."

"Yeah, I'll bet. C'mon Dean." He turned to face his brother, and they grinned and declared together:

"We've got work to do."

* * *

_Epilogue_

Bobby watched the Impala drive off and disappear in the distance. He shook his head, turned and started back to the house.

"_Damn Winchesters_," he muttered with gruff affection. He had almost reached the front steps when the guttural rumble of an engine drew his attention. He turned to see a figure in a dark grey duster and sunglasses arrive astride a black and silver Harley chopper. Bobby chuckled as he approached the newcomer.

"Long time no see," he shouted over the roar of the engine. The rider, a woman with silver-streaked auburn hair twisted into a tight braid, raised a black gloved hand in greeting as she killed the engine.

"Bobby, you old reprobate. How have you been?"

"Never a dull moment," he replied. "What brings you around?"

"I found a couple of books that might interest you," she said, reaching into one of the bike's saddle bags and drawing out a pair of volumes. Bobby nodded. This was par for the course with this woman: he wouldn't see her for months, even years, and then she'd pop back up again to bring him something for his library, asking nothing in return except a drink or two and a few hours of conversation.

"Always appreciated. You want to come in for a bit? I just got a new bottle of Jack that needs testing."

"With a holy water chaser, no doubt," she replied with a grin as she got off the bike and followed him to the house. "I heard you were working on a big research project. How'd that turn out for you?"

Bobby glanced off to the east, the direction the boys had headed.

"It worked itself out, apparently. Couple of kids of an old friend got themselves in a bit of trouble."

"Hunters?"

"Who else," he said with a wry smile.

"So they're back in the game now, I take it?"

"Yep. Back fighting the good fight: two brothers against the Legions of Hell."

"Brothers, huh?" She laughed as her eyes, hidden behind dark lenses, glowed with a silvery-blue light.

"Something tells me Hell won't know what hit 'em."

_The End_

* * *

A/N: re: The doctor's name. Did you see what I did there? Good, just checking ;)

Reviews, as usual, are really appreciated.

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